


As the river passes

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: You Drove Me Wild [7]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousin Incest, Implied Relationships, M/M, Nothing remotely explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1923324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lazy afternoon in Valinor; Finrod watches his cousins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the river passes

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Как течёт река](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7590481) by [rio_abajo_rio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rio_abajo_rio/pseuds/rio_abajo_rio)



“ – and it’s just so hard for me to make sense of her,” Turukáno was saying earnestly, back propped against the trunk of a tree. “One day I’m certain she loves me, the next she turns on me and yells and tells me not to be such a ‘Valar damned gentleman’.” Turukáno screwed up his face. “Why is that a bad thing? I seek only to be chivalrous and respectful. I wish I knew what she wanted. I always thought Vanyarin maidens were sweet and soft-spoken, but - do you have these problems with Amarië? …Ingoldo?”

“Hm?” Findaráto was leaning absently against the same tree trunk as Turukáno, their shoulders brushing, but his attention was not on his friend.

Turukáno poked him exasperatedly in the ribs. “Findaráto! I’m pouring my heart out here.”

“Are you?” Findaráto looked up curiously. “Oh. I’m sorry I missed it then.” He tilted his head, considering. “Though if you pouring your heart out means you’re confessing your love for me, I must say, with the greatest respect and affection, that I do not view you as more than a friend – ”

“Don’t be an absolute idiot, Ingoldo,” said Turukáno, reddening in frustration. “I was _trying_ to tell you about Elenwë!”

“Ah.” Findaráto nodded in sudden comprehension, interest flickering in his eyes. “Do forgive me. My attention was elsewhere.”

Turukáno scowled at the clearing across from them on the far riverbank. “Watching Findekáno and Moryo spar, I suppose.”

“Yes,” said Findaráto. “I thought it a very interesting fight. They are oddly similar, don’t you see? Findekáno has greater strength, and Moryo has height and speed, but both have a very similar single-minded intent. And both have a tendency to be overpowered by their emotions – quick tempers, though they show it differently. I was tempted to shout epithets from the sidelines to see if I could rouse either or both of them into an error.”

“And did you?” asked Turukáno grumpily.

“No,” said Findaráto. “I did not need to. Maitimo appeared and my influence became unnecessary.”

Turukáno looked away. “And did he have a positive or negative affect on my brother’s performance?”

“That too was interesting,” said Findaráto, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I thought, perhaps, Findekáno would be distracted or lose his focus. But instead,” he turned to Turukáno, smiling, “he fairly lit up. Moryo didn’t stand a chance after that.”

“Hm,” said Turukáno, with studied disinterest.

“One wonders what affect that would have on the battlefield,” Findaráto mused. “Show a squadron of soldiers the faces of those they love, and see how they fight after… Or even have them fighting alongside their lovers…”

“Stop it, Findaráto,” said Turukáno, sharply. “Don’t call them – ”

“Lovers?” Findaráto twirled a blade of grass between his fingers. “That is what they are, Turno.”

Turukáno shifted uncomfortably. “It – it isn’t decent. I don’t want to think – ”

“Of your brother bedding our male cousin?”

Turukáno flushed again. “Yes. Now please do shut up, Findaráto.”

“He’s only a half cousin, after all,” said Findaráto, eyes falling half shut as he gazed across the river.

“But he’s a – well, a he,” protested Turukáno.

Findaráto smiled at him. “It is not such a scandalous thing, after all. How many of us have not sought such comforts at one time or another? Many of us, as you should remember, in our youth – ”

“Yes, in our youth,” said Turukáno, cutting him off hastily. “But now, it seems so – and he is our father’s heir – ” He broke off, looking agonized.

Findaráto laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t look so distraught, dear friend. There are worse things in this world than for your brother to love a man.”

“Yes,” said Turukáno. “For him to love a Fëanorion.”

Findaráto gazed thoughtfully across the river. The clearing where the match had taken place was now empty, practice weapons piled loosely under a tree, Carnistir having taken his leave with ill-grace. Findekáno was leaning out over the bank, wringing out his tunic, his braids falling over his shoulder, and his laugh carried easily across the water. Beside him, a tall, redheaded figure reclined on the grass, head propped on one hand.

“It was well-fought,” he could just hear Maitimo saying, “but you at least don’t have to go home to him. He’ll be in such a mood…”

Findekáno laughed and slung himself down on the grass. “Next time, just for you, I’ll throw the match so you have to deal with no foul-tempered brothers.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Maitimo sighed and Findekáno tugged his head down into his lap. “They’re nigh on impossible as it is.”

“All bets are off if it’s Tyelko, though,” said Findekáno firmly, winding his fingers into Maitimo’s hair as Maitimo’s eyes closed. “If I can beat his ass, I will.”

“If you must,” Maitimo’s voice was only a murmur now, and Findekáno bent low, whispering something that made a slow smile dance on Maitimo’s lips.

“Yes,” said Findaráto, tearing his gaze away from his cousins and turning back to Turukáno, who was looking deeply troubled. “There are far worse things. But Turno,” he squeezed Turukáno’s shoulder encouragingly, “you were telling me about Elenwë. Has she sent you away again?”

Turukáno launched gratefully into his explanation, as Findaráto’s eyes were drawn once more to the tableau across the river: the dark head bent over the bright one; Findekáno dropping a swift kiss to Maitimo’s temple as Maitimo drowsed against him.

Findaráto smiled, but felt a sudden, detached burst of grief. As sometimes happened, his vision swirled before him and showed, briefly, something other than the present.

_Flames, leaping higher. Tall figures with long swords and eyes of iron. And then whiteness, frozen expanses, the wailing of children…_

Findaráto squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering, and he was once again on the banks of the river, Turukáno’s voice murmuring on at his side. And across the river…

He blinked again, but they had gone.

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Finrod has obviously read [Plato](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sacred_Band_of_Thebes), and is not being at all original in his musings on sending lovers together into battle.


End file.
